


Maybe There Is a Little Joy in This Curse

by Archaema



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut, Sylvanas as a Vampire, Sylvanas does not process feelings well, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 03:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16526048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaema/pseuds/Archaema
Summary: Jaina finds herself captured by Sylvanas, who has plans for the mage.Again.Every time it plays out the same way... until it doesn't anymore.





	Maybe There Is a Little Joy in This Curse

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't done something smutty for a bit, and this was such a fun idea from some folks in discord. 
> 
> Don't take this too seriously. It's just some lesbian content.

“If you keep showing up in my boudoir,” Sylvanas said with amused condescension, “I’m going to think you’re doing this on purpose.” Her fingers trailed down her captive’s cheek, cool skin meeting warmth and leaving the faintest lines in a sheen of sweat.

The woman beneath her winced, eyes squeezing even more tightly shut to try and ward off the pounding of a headache of tyrannical proportions. The pressure cleared a fraction, her eyes fluttered open slowly, bringing the dimly lit face before her into the best focus she could manage through the fog in her mind.

“Sy-“ Jaina started, before coughing and trying to lick her lips. “Sylvanas…”

It was a raspy, hushed indictment packaged as a name.

“None other, Ms. Proudmoore,” replied the voice that belonged to the glowing red eyes triumphantly hovering above her. The oozing, arrogant confidence was almost enough to bring the full throb of the headache back into full force. “Perhaps you’d enjoy explaining to me why you were prowling my city.”

“We’ve been over this before.” Jaina hated the opening steps of their dance. Familiar and played out, they had met more than once. As far as she would tell anyone, even once was more than enough. “The city belongs to the citizens, I’m just trying to keep them safe from you and other things like you.”

“Ah, but I thought we’d come to an understanding,” Sylvanas replied smoothly, rolling her sanguine eyes. “I will police the lesser vampires that haunt this neighborhood, and your guild will not interfere.”

“I’m not here in official capacity,” Jaina retorted quickly.

Too quickly.

She could see the slender eyebrow of the undead elf raise slowly, a grin creeping on to her face that was made sinister by the pointed fang it revealed. The incisor glittered in the faint, flickering candle light of the room.

“Then you, Lady Proudmoore, are most unwise.” Sylvanas’s hands rested on either side of Jaina’s head, strands of blond hair caught beneath them. Yet, more effective was her presence, looming right above her. “Those treaties, those polite agreements, those wards, they exist to keep you safe.”

“Am I not safe?” Jaina said, managing a defiant smirk.

“Can you move?” The response was casual, dripping with smugness.

And Jaina found she could not. She tugged at her wrists, finding something chill yet ever so slightly malleable, like a rubber, holding them fast. Her legs found the same.

“Is it disappointing to know that there are other mages out there in the world who are not part of your guild, Lady Pr-“

“Will you cut it with the ‘Lady’, I am not my mother,” Jaina hissed, annoyed. It earned her a surprised, confused blink.

“My apologies,” Sylvanas said, pulling back and giving a quick, thoughtful purse of her lips. “…Jaina.”

“Thank you. Now if you’d care to let me out of here, that would be equally polite. I don’t need to tell you, of all people, that I’m a busy woman.” Jaina pulled in a deep breath to steady herself, watching closely the other woman’s response.

“Then stop wandering into my wards, and perhaps you’d have lost less than two full days to your little adventurous streak.” Sylvanas drew closer, grin returning as she stole away the buffer of distance.

“Two days…” Jaina’s whisper was rich with bewilderment, but she could not look away from Sylvanas.

“I never know what I might catch,” Sylvanas said. “I usually have to kill them or throw them back.” She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “But you? You warrant a special interest.”

And there it was. The moment where things began to truly turn toward the conclusion Jaina had gotten far too comfortable with.

However, something felt askew.

“Special interest?” Jaina felt her pulse quicken, and furrowed her brow. The progression usually was Sylvanas saying she was a worthy catch, and that led to things that tread far off the path that was appropriate for an ageless vampire and a prodigy of such skill that she was an archmagi at barely over thirty.

“I fuck you, I let you go, we both sate our temporary desires,” Sylvanas said, the bored inflection making Jaina feel more than a little offended at the way it casually dismissed their odd intimate encounters. “You think this gives you some special privilege to be on my territory; that you have found a way to somehow achieve what no one else can.”

“I assure you, I do not take this for anything more than it is, Sylvanas,” Jaina said quickly, but she was quieted as Sylvanas’s hand laid over her mouth, and the dead elf shook her head. It was off script, and yet the notes were so familiar that Jaina could not help but feel an ache in her chest as her body followed the rote.

“You believe you have compassion from the Banshee Queen. You believe that I am not actually dangerous.” Sylvanas sank low, her lips brushing Jaina’s cheek with a chill breath against her skin. It made the mage shiver, her eyes squeezing shut. The rising redness in her cheeks and the urge to squirm her hips was already making a mockery of her. “You are truly powerful, Jaina,” she said, lips brushing her ear, “but it’s time I taught you to respect me.”

A laugh, cold and arrogant, came in cool wind across Jaina’s neck, as Sylvanas slid to the side, climbing away from her position atop her.

“A woman like you,” Sylvanas began. _A work of art like you,_ she thought. “A woman like you can only learn from a woman like me in one way.” _How long has it been since someone stirred this kind of feeling in me?_ The vampire had asked herself a hundred times in the last day, and many times more before it. There was only one answer to the question that had been vexing her.

Sylvanas pulled her hand away slowly, and held up a finger to her own lips, the silent order of silence given to Jaina.

Jaina, however, was disinclined to remain quiet.

“Only one way? That sounds like you don’t really know how to get along with people,” Jaina said, words flowing quickly. “Just because you live in some brooding old Victorian house in the bad part of the city doesn’t mean you’re some kind of martyr or tragic figure. You could live in the uptown, you could do something with your power to help people, you could even-“

Sylvanas’s hand was at Jaina’s neck, and she found her thumb pressing into the soft flesh under her chin. Her nail was digging painfully, and for a moment, Jaina wondered if she was going to draw blood. Her breath caught in her throat at the sudden fierceness of the motion, at the power of her grip. She tried not to shudder.

“All options. All ones with the very real outcome that I would be rejected by those too small and fearful to understand me.” Sylvanas looked away, a soft rustle reaching Jaina’s ears from where her eyes could not see, and then found the vampire leaning over her from the side. “Say something profound, Jaina Proudmoore. Something meaningful, before I make sure you say nothing intelligible for the rest of the night.” Her thumb’s pressure loosened, and Jaina opened her mouth to stretch her jaw and try to assuage the ache.

Jaina recognized the phrase. The coding behind it was specific. It was her chance to ask for freedom from the vampire. She could escape the Banshee Queen’s clutches by simply asking genuinely. Every time, part of her resented the type of answers that came forth. It was no different when she opened her mouth again to reply.

“I don’t think you’ve got the fangs for it.”

_What the fuck are you thinking, Jaina?!_ the mage raged at herself in her head. _She’s acting weird, this isn’t the normal game!_ The only answer outside of her mind was an amused huff from Sylvanas, a sound that held the condensed essence of everything she hated about the Banshee Queen.

It was also everything she desired in her.

“Words won’t help you where we’re going,” Sylvanas said, pushing her thumb back in place against her chin.

Jaina was breathing quickly, her adrenaline being thrown as fuel onto the fire in her chest and belly that demanded recognition. Her nostrils flared as she tried to take in what air she could manage, and she gasped reflexively when Sylvanas pulled her hand away.

It was short-lived.

It was slightly yielding but firm, the object Jaina found forcing open her mouth. Lukewarm, it had a faint, chemical taste reminiscent of manufactured goods. _Silicone_ , she guessed in the logical part of her mind. _Mixed to an unusual firmness._ Mage that she was, science was no stranger to her. It had vastly assisted in the study of the arcane.

“Your uniform has always been flattering,” Sylvanas said, standing up straight. She brought up her hands to rub them together in anticipation, licking at one of her long fangs slowly. The uniform was more than flattering. It was Jaina in its style, clean cut and prideful, but with a certain measure of utilitarian practicality. The long coat she had been wearing to travel in her territory had been less so, though she had to admit the gold with blue trim was elegant. To avoid too much attention, there had been illusion shrouding her for her skulking.

“I’m sure you can afford a replacement, though.” With a quick shake of her shoulders to prepare herself, she reached for her belt. And she paused. “Ah, I always forget. When you’re skinning a catch, you want to be careful to not make a mess of your clothes.”

The dancing glow of red caught Jaina’s blue eyes, and she watched as Sylvanas lifted her hands to her own collar. The wide coat she wore as though it were a cape she grasped by the collar, and began to peel back. It fell to the floor silently, a precursor to the undead elf reaching the buttons of the burgundy vest that shielded her white, buttoned top.

As she undid each individual button, she made certain she kept Jaina’s eyes locked on her own.

The burgundy fell into the darkness outside of the mage’s vision.

The buttons on the blouse separated.

Jaina had seen Sylvanas’s bare chest before, yet every time, it made her breath arrest and her heart skip beats. Sylvanas turned, perpendicular to her, and gazed haughtily down over her shoulder, chin raised in the superior way that the vampire did so naturally. She could see as the hint of her breast came into view, a hint of darkness at the peak fighting the candle light. The powerful triceps and biceps were first and foremost, preserved from the time ages past when Sylvanas had been a living elf who patrolled long gone forests and elven borders.

Jaina hated to admit it, every damn time.

Sylvanas, even in death, had the body of a woman of strength and beauty.

Sylvanas, even in death, had the body of some perfect goddess.

It almost seemed unfair. That figure, toned and impossibly perfect, was distracting; in fact, she would have called it hypnotizing. From their first chance meeting, it had gotten Jaina into trouble. In the back of her mind, she knew it was best to try and ignore it. She could break the magic bonds in an instant and flee to safety.

The mage found herself with a perfect view of the subtle shift and bounce of Sylvanas’s chest as she reached down, deftly undid buttons standing in her way, and then tugged the mage’s white top open. She let out a soft gasp as the chill air hit her, realizing that the room was much cooler than she had imagined.

“Still as perfect as the first time I saw you,” Sylvanas murmured, slipping down to defeat more buttons. When she had the last on the upper half of the long, mage guild robe that Jaina wore, she gave an amused curl of one corner of her lips. From her hip, she pulled free a long, gleaming dagger that caught the dozens of candles along its length, fire dancing as she held it above Jaina’s belly.

“Don’t flinch. I don’t want your blood.” The vampire laughed briefly, entirely too pleased with her next thought. “Not yet, anyway.”

Jaina winced as she felt the coolness of Sylvanas’s fingers touch her smooth belly, tracing along as if she were something fragile; in a way, she knew she was, but Sylvanas also knew how tenacious, how resilient, she was, too. It was part of the strange, magnetic force that drew the undead to not only tolerate her, but indulge in her.

“What will I find when I open the bottom half of your robe, Jaina?” Sylvanas looked back to her and wore her smug grin again, pushing away the brief reverence that had fallen over her features. “Shinier than normal?” Sylvanas’s amusement was clear in her voice, as she dragged out the moment. “Maybe that sweet scent of yours will be even faster.”

Jaina pressed her teeth against the gag, growling behind it in frustration. The teasing was electric, contributing to ever growing tension, but she had to play the part. The charade of chance had to be maintained, the illusion of indignance. The truth, though, was that her frustration was in the patience and skill Sylvanas always was willing to invest in teasing her.

The knife found the hem of the robe, and quickly its honed edge began to separate the fabric with barely a sound. Jaina’s grumble at her robe being torn was easily louder; she could fix it with a simple spell, but it was the principle of it. Damaging her clothes was a new aspect of their games.

Words passed Sylvanas’s lips, a lyrical murmur in a language long unused. She caught herself and grinned, mouth open slightly and fangs on display.

“You are a beautiful woman,” Sylvanas said, reiterating her words in the common language. She drew the knife down further, barely paying attention to it as it finished its way down the front of the robe, which she flicked away from Jaina’s legs. “No undergarments at all? To think I was looking forward to peeling them off. The way your wetness clings to them is a sight I’ll never find myself tired of.”

Jaina grumbled at the gag, the flames of embarrassment rising in her cheeks. She had engineered it herself, conflicting arousal making her head swim as she wondered if she had been clever or made a great mistake. The way Sylvanas’s red eyes trailed along her legs and up to her exposed mound and the soft tussle of short blond hair there answered that quandary.

“Normally, I’d let you enjoy the feel of my tongue on you,” the vampire said, sliding her blade into the sheath on her hip. “but I’ve special plans, tonight.”

Cool fingers settled lightly against Jaina’s thighs, and began a slow path upward, tracing along her skin just firmly enough to skirt the ticklish reflexes of her sides. She found herself twitching once, even so, and was relieved when she felt the touch evolve into a caress of each of her breasts.

The mage sucked in a quick breath at the contact, the few moments of preamble feeling as if they had been hours instead. Her back arched slightly, pushing her against Sylvanas’s hands.

“You remember what I told you would happen if you came onto my territory again, Jaina?” Sylvanas’s fingers found her nipples, and rolled them with enough pressure to pinch, eliciting a quick gasp around the gag. “I told you I would teach you never to trespass again.”

“I promise, you will not trespass again.” Sylvanas briefly released the captive nubs, before taking them again and once more pinching. Jaina felt the churning twist in her chest, her body approving even as the pain grew. The undead was mindful of Jaina’s limits, careful to not exceed the limits Jaina’s mortality or magic held.

The caress had sent Jaina’s ache aflame, and it was not helped at all by the way she pondered various things that being held captive and taught a lesson might entail. She found herself clenching her hands tightly, eyes closing in anticipation.

Jaina’s eyes reopen at the firm pressure of Sylvanas’s palm pressing against her mound, which became small, rubbing circles against her. A wet gasp escaped around the gag. She had not expected such a direct approach from the long dead elf. Sylvanas was a devotee of the long game, of planning and plotting, and making tactical choices to keep up the thrill.

“Ah, there it is,” Sylvanas said, fingers sliding alongside Jaina’s slit. There was virtually no friction, the slickness welcoming the encroaching hand. “I’ll admit, I had missed this.” There was a quick glance of her eyes up toward Jaina, and for an instant, the mage could swear there was something more to the look than just lust and the desire for dominance. Something resembling emotion. “I had missed…”

Her voice trailed off, as she teasingly traced her fingers along Jaina’s skin and threatened to sink them deeper. Jaina arched her back, trying to find purchase, to get firmer contact and maybe even to claim Sylvanas’s slender digits.

To her absolute surprise, Sylvanas acquiesced, fingers sliding home and curling inside Jaina. One moment of haste had seemed improbable; she could not explain why a second time was so shocking in the wake of that. Yet, it caught her off guard. She was not inclined to complain, though, as she felt the deft, sweetly shifting fingers touching and filling her.

“Ah, that face you make,” Sylvanas purred as she drew herself low and close to Jaina. The quiet sounds of her fingers doing their work even as her palm continued to press flatly against her was almost able to echo in the room, and Jaina could see as Sylvanas’s ears twitched, taking in the sound. The faintest hint of color tried to break into the undead elf’s cheeks, though it could not quite stir more than a ghost of a blush. Even more faint was the pink that threatened to grow in her ears.

Jaina flexed her wrists, groaning against the gag at the rush from the combination of the sight and the feeling of her fingers threatening her ability to think coherently. The first peak was already approaching so swiftly, she had to try and brace herself. It was one of Sylvanas’s favorite hobbies to draw out as many orgasms as she could, which Jaina had learned quite exhaustingly on their first encounter.

Sylvanas’s fingers stilled, her palm lightening its touch, just as the dam was about to break.

A frustrated grunt escaped Jaina, and she glared at Sylvanas, who returned it with the same smug grin she had seen when Sylvanas had been about to slay some foolish mercenary set out to take down the so-called Banshee Queen.

“Did you want to ask me something? Permission to come might be a good request.” Sylvanas slowly began to move her fingers again, and her other hand this time joined in, cupping one of Jaina’s breasts and massaging it firmly. A quiet breath passed the vampire’s lips, a sound of appreciation. “You do so enjoy following the rules, don’t you? It’s only fair.”

The words did little to reduce the fierce, frustrated look that was piercing Sylvanas.

“I understand, of course,” Sylvanas said, palming her firmly again and slowly easing the motions back to speed.

Burgeoning pleasure met the receding wave from being brought near the edge, and it was only a few moments before Jaina found herself close again. Her hips hungrily pushed against Sylvanas’s hand, the heady scent beginning to overpower the aromatic candles all around, just as the slick sounds began to fight against Jaina’s ragged, eager breath.

“You want something that no one alive can have.” Fingers curling deftly, Sylvanas continued, her grin fading away. It was replaced with concentration, a focused intensity as she worked at Jaina to drive her back to the precipice.

Jaina found herself a hair’s breadth away, as Sylvanas’s fingers slid free of her despite a desperate attempt to catch her with her thighs. She uttered a disappointed whine, the second time being at the edge somehow far more intense. She could not see, but she knew her fingers were trembling. The sweat on her body, the salty-sweet slickness highlighted her body and pooled slightly in her hollows, the sheen nearly making her glow.

As far as Sylvanas was concerned, the tenacious woman was aglow with her own light.

The vampire reached up, and tugged free the gag with a flick of her fingers. Claws having made quick work of the leather, it fell away to the side.

“Sylvanas, please!” Jaina huffed out, before licking her lips, the hoarse exclamation surprising her. Her breathing, fast and desperate, was clearer and louder with the removal of the obstruction, but even at just two times being brought near the edge, the effect was devastating on her coherence.

The response was her fingers again, feather light in their pressure as she resumed. Her thumb danced over Jaina’s clit, her deftness inhuman as ever. The danger of oversensitivity that Jaina had felt in the past with clumsy partners, unattentive men, and even her own uncooperative body had nothing on the undead elf’s skills.

“If you stop, I swear I’ll-” Jaina began, only to have Sylvanas’s free hand slip a finger into her mouth.

That finger, slick and carrying a taste that was all too familiar, met Jaina’s tongue. It had surprised her the first time; a faint musk, with the faintest salt and a floral hint. It was the mix of the flora and salt that had surprised her, yet it had proven quite addictive.

The way Jaina’s tongue softly slid along and pulled at Sylvanas’s finger led to an utterly unintentional moan from the back of the vampire’s throat. It was followed by her quickly catching her breath, and glaring over at Jaina.

“You know what comes next, don’t you, Jaina?” Sylvanas replied, pulling her voice steady. The faintest quiver had threatened to invade at the small counterattack from the mage.

“Me?” Jaina replied, tilting her head just enough to avoid Sylvanas’s finger.

Sylvanas gave the wickedest snarl she could muster, eyes alight with crimson as she pulled down her hand to firmly massage the mage’s exposed breasts, effortlessly flowing between them in her rough handling.

“T-That’s hardly convincing,” Jaina managed, her hips pressing against Sylvanas’s hand once more with abandon. All she needed was a little bit more, and she could-

Sylvanas pulled back.

Again.

Her hands completely left Jaina, and she turned her back. Even feeling nearly delirious from the deprivation, the mage could hardly help but look at the exposed muscles of the elf’s back. Those powerful shoulders, sculpted biceps, and even what she had some months ago decided was the perfect slight curve at the small of the once archer’s back were captivating, even with her breath barely obeying her.

Sylvanas sucked in a slow, unneeded breath, steadying her hands. They were shaking ever so slightly, beyond what a human would notice, and yet for the vampire, it was obvious.

“Your dalliances with me have consequences, Jaina,” Sylvanas said quietly, not turning back to face her. “To me, to you, to our people.”

For a fleeting second, she questioned her plan.

“Consequences I am willing to deal with, if they ever catch up to us,” Jaina said. “They don’t need to know now.” The words were from her heart, a distant ache that she tried to frequently muzzle. Why was the vampire giving her that at this time, of all times. Jaina was frustrated, her heart pounding, her mind swimming. She wanted so badly to come to those deft fingers and looking in Sylvanas’s eyes. Indeed, she wanted the turn about that always seemed to follow, a chance to outdo the other.

“You told them off before you came here,” Sylvanas whispered.

There was a moment of deafening silence, drowning out the breathing in favor of tenseness.

“How do you know that?”

“The crows are my allies.”

“And you thought you could hide with me? Use me?”

“It was-” Jaina winced, feeling the chill that poured off the vampire. The game had been so good, so normal, and suddenly, like everything in the last ten years of Jaina’s life, it had been thrown askew, the illusion of prosperity dispelled. “I wanted to see you one last time before I left.”

“What if I offer you something?” Sylvanas said quickly. Too quickly. Her red eyes gleamed through a veil of her faded blond hair as she looked over her shoulder toward the mage. “An alternative.”

“What could you offer me?” Jaina held Sylvanas’s gaze trapped in hers, eyes narrowed. “Your work always comes at a price.”

“Something different,” Sylvanas replied, voice practically a hiss. “Something not chained to their rules and regulations. Something free from the confines of death!”

“I see,” Jaina said, letting her head fall back against the cushion beneath it. She stared upwards at the ceiling, dark masonry of intricate, macabre design returning the sightless introspection.

“What I bear is a curse, Jaina.” Sylvanas’s voice was unsteady, a tremor slipping to the normally confident, sly tone. “In my selfishness, though…”

Jaina looked at the vampire. She watched as the undead turned to look down at her, the black streaks of tears long ago burned in below her eyes unmasked by makeup or magic.

“I’m…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, the mage’s mind suddenly wholly sober.

She understood.

Jaina took a slow, fortifying breath as she weighed it over in her mind, the benefits and consequences quickly laid out in analytical fashion.

The rational evaluation died as she chewed at her lip in thought, dispelled by a simple counter.

The vampire before her, the vampire that had fucked her and she had fucked numerous times, the vampire that had killed countless times and seen her kill in misguided rage and betrayal, the vampire that should not have had any mortal sense of emotion available, the vampire with only a single loyalty beyond her survival, suddenly seemed quite different in her eyes.

She was vulnerable.

Her emotionless mask was barely in place.

Months, indeed a few years, of what had seemed simply raw attraction was something more.

The Banshee Queen was, in the end, alone.

The mage closed her eyes in thought. Sylvanas had never shied from implying the horrors of her existence. While she had never gave word to the long undead being that had taken her mortality, Jaina knew that the legacy had lived on to infect those she had once called friends. One she had even deigned to call a lover.

When the northern province had been inundated with plague and byzantine plotting, it had taken that man and turned him down a path she could not follow. There, though, Sylvanas stood above her, offering not even the simple level of evil succumbing to darkness offered, but presenting it herself.

Jaina could see as Sylvanas pulled in a breath, licking at her lips. The way those red eyes turned, toward the darkness of the candles around the edges of the room, and the shift of her ears down, drooping, all carried one implication.

Sylvanas knew what she was asking. It was desperate. It was too much. The moment was lost, and she had to pull back. All she had to do was finish their game, and Jaina would be free to leave. Even pushed out of her position, the archmage would have no trouble finding a place in the world, something Sylvanas could not do.

“I cannot say that I accept your proposal,” Jaina finally said. Yet she bore no wince or resentment in her expression. Instead, she smiled faintly, and turned her head to the side. “But I’ve decided that I won’t be separated from you. One way, or another.”

Jaina tossed her hair as best she could with a quick shake of her head. She tilted to the side, and made sure her braid had been pushed from her neck.

Sylvanas’s eyes widened, and she reached up to her own breast, hand a fist to it in shock.

_Ah_ , so Jaina thought, _you understand my meaning_.

Sylvanas’s lips parted, fangs flashing for a moment, before she closed her mouth. In the moment, at the last fork in the road, could she truly condemn Jaina to something so dark? Something so permanent?

Sylvanas’s hand, come to rest alongside Jaina’s hip, had balled into a fist and was pressed against the table on which she lay. The vampire almost jumped at the touch of Jaina’s fingertips as they captured it, and squeezed at her. There was comfort in the gesture.

Comfort, and acceptance.

Sylvanas’s face seemed to alight in what she would have called eager anticipation of victory, but they both knew better. She leaned down, letting the last pretense of anything being a game fall away. She pressed her lips to Jaina’s, turning her head to meet her with a gentle squeeze of her fingers.

It lingered for long moments, a kiss short on the fiery passion and power play instead sank deeply into the space between them.

Sylvanas’s fingers found Jaina’s mound once more, resuming the same pace had put her so dangerously close to the edge; the mage’s arousal was swiftly being becoming need. The world around them fell away once more, subsumed by lust and a very different kind of desperation.     

A word in old Thalassian filled the room, Sylvanas following it with a tease of her fangs along the woman’s jawline, cool tongue touching softly beneath them. The bindings winked out of existence with a soft hiss and faint pop of blue light, and Jaina found her wrists and ankles unrestricted.

Jaina’s hands leapt up, ignoring the soreness of the bindings, to grip into the back of Sylvanas’s faded blond hair and her wrist. She tugged, pulling her to keep up the kiss of her fangs and the touch of her fingers that were so close to pushing her to her peak. She was gasping out, certain she was going to lose coherence; the lingering need from her last two denials had not faded so much as she had hoped, only instead having been overridden by the seriousness of the moment.

And again, Sylvanas denied her.

Her fingers halted, the steady pressure as the calloused pads of her fingertips pressed against the tight bundle of nerves inside her made Jaina cry out wordlessly, nails digging into skin where her hands held fast.

“Up,” Sylvanas breathed out hastily, the excitement making her forget to breathe properly to speak.

“I-” Jaina tried to word a protest, her hips writhing against the vampire’s hand, but she could not find enough purchase, the deft fingertips dodging giving too much. “Stop teasing, and fuck me, Sylvanas!” she finally managed as Sylvanas shifted a hand to pull her onto her feet. The remnants of Jaina’s garments fell behind her, and she found to her satisfaction that outside of her view, Sylvanas had stripped the remnants of her own.

“Stay with me, Jaina,” Sylvanas said, holding Jaina up so tightly against her that she could feel the slickness of sweat all down her torso. Her thigh shifted, and she slid it deftly behind her hand. She managed to defeat the grip on her wrist and pull it free. “This is not over yet.”

Jaina gasped in pleasure, grinding against the Banshee Queen’s thigh.

“Promise?” she murmured out breathlessly, to a satisfied, chuckle.

“Your appetite has never disappointed me,” Sylvanas whispered back, as she felt Jaina’s hands release. They slid down over her back, nails against grayed skin and drawing out faint trails with such force that beads of stolen blood peaked through.

At her ass, they rested, Jaina gripping her as though she intended to never release that strong, slender and rounded flesh. She leaned her head back and laughed as she heard the faintest sound from Sylvanas’s throat in response to the gesture.

“You try to hide it so well,” Jaina managed triumphantly. “But I know you, too.”

Sylvanas gave a quick quirk of her lip, and captured Jaina’s lips with her own, fingers lacing into her hair on the side of her head and gripping firmly. There was no pretense of teasing or restraint, their tongues quickly escaping the confines of their lips and dueling, warm and cool, as Sylvanas proceeded to drive Jaina up against the wall.

A quick hiss of pain escaped the mage as her ass extinguished a pair of flickering candles, but it was lost swallowed up by more intense feelings as she used the leverage to push against Sylvanas’s leg again. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to focus on her counterattack. She pulled free a hand, her other wrapping around and pulling the vampire as hard as she could. It sought out the source of the taste she had been given earlier, sliding down and around her thigh.

Sylvanas gritted her teeth for a moment, their kiss broken as Jaina grabbed breath, trying to hold down her reaction to feeling Jaina’s practiced fingers sliding over her clit, exploring around it and rubbing it tauntingly with ease in the wet nectar.

“This moment is about you,” Sylvanas groaned out, eliciting a moan from Jaina. The vampire’s words were tainted with need, with pleasure drawn out by the mage, and that moment swelled in her chest and made her ache.

“I wouldn’t have ever done this if we weren’t equals,” Jaina replied, “and I promise you I am going to make you beg when the tables are turned.”

“You can certainly try.” Sylvanas tried to capture her lips, but they met a laughing grin instead. It dissolved into a satisfied moan, though, and they found themselves firmly locked against each other. The room was filled with the sounds of their fingers and bodies slipping, and pleasured gasps that grew longer and more insistent.

It was a battle of wills and bodies. Neither wanted to give in, to be the first to come, but Jaina was perilously low on stamina. The denials were too potent, her need too built up, to let her deny her body’s demand. She held out for glorious minutes as they continued to grind together, until Sylvanas grabbed her breasts again, allowing a fraction of space between them to get at her while her thigh kept up its magic.

The mage could feel her body slipping past the point of control. There was not going to be any denying it, she was going to come, and all that was possible was either Sylvanas making sure it compounded and drew out the duration, or making it fizzle disastrously to make it her win.

Sylvanas’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and she tried to squash the feeling of her own body trying to keep pace with Jaina’s and fall past the precipice.

It was time.

The breath she took in was shuddering, unsteady, but necessary.

“What are we, if not slaves to this torment?” the Banshee Queen asked, catching Jaina’s gaze with her half-lidded eyes, both of them awash in a haze of bliss.

Sylvanas leaned forward, mouth open, and let her fangs find Jaina’s neck with deadly precision; precision that was accompanied by a unique wash of pleasure that seemed to reverberate with the budding orgasms both were unable to halt.  

Jaina could feel the strange combination of wetness and warmth as blood met Sylvanas’s mouth. The drain was real, life literally slipping away, and yet in direct denial she felt the waves burst forth and swell through her whole body. She moaned out, ecstatically, as the sensations amplified one another.

The mage felt the seizing of Sylvanas’s lips against her neck as she choked back a groan, and she knew that she had succeeded in tying whatever remnants of their game had existed, as the vampire bucked against her in turn.

They slumped downward, falling to their knees and propping each other up as the waves washed away everything.

Jaina’s vision was blurry, only catching hints of blond hair. Her consciousness fought to stay, to embrace the lingering twitches of pleasure if nothing else, her want to capture even a few more throbs of bliss loathe to let go.

It could not stop the embrace of death.

*** * * * ***

Jaina’s eyes shot open, and she gasped out for breath.

The gray-blue skin of the Banshee Queen greeted her eyes as her vision returned. The mage could feel the coppery tang of blood on her lips, and a burgeoning hunger in the back of her very soul that demanded it be fed.

And yet, in the matching red eyes holding her gaze as her consciousness flooded back, there was an emotion Jaina had grown to love from the undead. A sympathy, and a compassion, that seemed to hold the loneliness away for the first time she could recall.

“Maybe there is a little joy in this curse,” Sylvanas said.

Jaina’s arms slipped out around her waist, as Sylvanas held her tightly, a hand running over her white hair.

For better or worse, their fates were joined for time immeasurable.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let us know if you liked our writing, and feel free to leave any constructive criticism in comments here or in asks at our tumblrs, including if you spy a missing tag:  
> http://archaema.tumblr.com/ (NSFW http://shadysuccubus.tumblr.com/)  
> http://offkeelworld.tumbr.com/


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